


Field Training in a Tropical Environment

by Lyl



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Vacation, gratuitous use of hammocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyl/pseuds/Lyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A three hour meeting with Director Fury results in Clint taking Phil on a ten day ‘field training’ mission. To Aruba.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Field Training in a Tropical Environment

**Author's Note:**

> Coming back from a year long hiatus, and this was harder to write than I thought and sort of rambled around. Thus, be warned.
> 
> For Non-sexual Intimacy (Round 1) at [ccbingo](http://ccbingo.livejournal.com) \- prompt: 10. Listening to Heartbeat or Breathing

One thing Clint has learned over the years, is that everything has a cause and effect – a chain of events that precede and follow every action.

Three months of losing agents, defeating supervillains and Tony Stark resulted in Agent Stiles running from Agent Coulson’s office in tears, two hours into his debrief. Not really what anyone – let alone Fury – wants to see in his agents, especially the fully grown male ones built like linebackers. Stiles is the third agent in a week to breakdown during one of Coulson’s debriefings, and morale always takes a hit for about a day until one of the junior agents set themselves on fire or turns a fire extinguisher on Thor or something and attention is diverted.

This time, Coulson is immediately called up to Fury’s office, and then so is Barton, where a three hour meeting – the most uncomfortable of his life – results in Clint taking Phil on a ten day ‘field training’ mission. To Aruba. With no tactical gear or op tech. And one suitcase between them.

Clint hadn’t realized Fury knows about them, but really shouldn’t be surprised – the man is in the first few rings of gossip dissemination, after all. He _knows_ things.

They have the clichéd bamboo hut on the beach with a porch and a hammock, and a hundred feet of pure, white sand stretching out to the blue, blue ocean – and there’s not another Avenger or SHIELD agent in sight. Their cell phones are turned off and packed in the bottom of their bag – Phil would only agree if Clint turned his off too, which he did in an instant – and there’s not another person for miles. 

Which is really the selling point of the place for Clint. 

Clint always thought that getting close to Coulson would require a miracle, until that time with the enormous mutant panda and the freak hurricane that left them stranded alone for five days. A shared debrief that led to a beer that led to coffee, then dinner, and a couple of insane situations later Clint found himself in a stable, long-term relationship.

Yet out of everything he’s ever done, getting Phil Coulson relaxed and lethargic, curled up in a hammock on a remote beach on an actual vacation, is definitely the most noteworthy thing he’s ever done.

Clint let’s himself smirk over that one, tracing light fingers over Phil’s ribs, rising and falling with the other man’s breaths. His head is laying on Phil’s shoulder, the thrum of Phil’s pulse a beautiful white noise in his ear as blood rushes beneath the skin.

“Stop smirking,” says a raspy voice, and Clint can’t help his widening smile.

“I’m not smirking.”

“You’re feeling smug. Stop it.” Clint presses a brief kiss to Phil’s shoulder, settling back down into the hammock, debating the merits of falling back asleep or going to get another drink for them both. Phil’s arm tightens around Clint’s back, his hand making a soothing motion over Clint’s hip, the message clear. Stay.

“You have a tan, Phil,” Clint teases, running a hand down Phil’s chest, which is darkening nicely under the tropical sun.

“I’ve had a tan before, Clint.”

“But never all over,” he grins, stomach shaking with silent laughter. “Well, _almost_ all over.”

“For the last time, I’m not walking around naked just so you don’t have to see any tan lines,” Phil tells him. Clint just hums in what sounds like agreement, but knows Phil isn’t buying it. 

He’s not worried. They still have four more days in their little beach cabana – more than enough time for Clint to convince Phil of the necessity of nude sunbathing.


End file.
